


Families

by Xie



Series: Only Time [5]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:52:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1654109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xie/pseuds/Xie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The people people have for friends<br/>Your common sense appall<br/>But the people people marry<br/>Are the queerest folk of all."<br/>- Charlotte Perkins Gilman</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  
Families, Chapter One  
By Xie

“ _The family you come from isn't as important as the family you're going to have_.” -Ring Lardner

**Justin’s POV**

I shoved my way through the hinged sheet of plywood that was passing for the door on the building next to Kinnetik. Winter light was pouring in through a wall of windows, illuminating a cloud of dust and debris stirred up by the construction.

Brian was wearing a dark overcoat and scarf, and he looked pissed. A man wearing a parka over his suit had his back to me, and he appeared to be the object of Brian’s wrath. Ted was standing next to them, his hands jammed into his coat pockets.

Brian’s eyes barely flickered at me when I walked over to where they stood. “Why exactly is it that two holidays a week apart end up translating into a month of lost time?”

The contractor frowned. “It’s not just the holidays, Mr. Kinney. It’s the weather…”

Brian took a breath, but Ted got there first. “When you took the job, you told us it was all indoor work, and exactly what you wanted to be doing during the winter.”

The guy started stammering about the early storms, inspections, supply problems and the upcoming holidays. I caught Brian’s eye, and he folded his lips in for a second. I wandered off, and stood looking at the space from the far end.

I hadn’t been inside since they’d torn down the interior cubicle walls, and I could see why Brian had bought the building. Unlike the original converted bathhouse, this one had windows overlooking the alley in back, bringing in light as well as views of other buildings, all ironwork and brick. It reminded me of parts of New York.

I watched the three men, standing at sharp angles to each other, rectangles of light transecting their bodies. I crouched down, tugged my bag over my head, and dug out my sketchpad.

I knew they’d probably be moving soon. I could tell from the way they were shifting on their feet, the spaces between their bodies getting bigger. So I roughed their figures in first, and then concentrated on the space, the windows, the strange dirty light.

I was sketching a jagged remnant of a wall, probably left standing because of the tangle of wires and pipes running out of it into the ceiling above, when the light changed. I glanced up, squinting at Brian’s silhouette against the big window.

“So, does this mean the art department’s new home has your stamp of approval?” He poked me lightly with the toe of his expensive shoe.

I grinned up at him. “I think your art department would be happy in a dungeon in the Ukraine if it meant you wouldn’t be coming around as often.”

**Brian’s POV**

After Ted left to herd the asshole contractor back to the main office, I glanced around for Justin, and almost laughed when I saw him sitting cross-legged on the dirty floor, tongue caught between his teeth, pencil flying over a page in his sketchbook. He didn’t notice when I started walking towards him, but when I got over there, the look of unfocused concentration shifted off his face, replaced by a smile that was all for me.

After letting him defend the honor of artists everywhere, I held out my hand and tugged him to his feet. He closed his sketchbook and set it down on top of his bag.

“Want to give me a tour?”

I might have believed he actually wanted to see the rest of the space, even in its present state of chaos, if he hadn’t accompanied the question with a slow blink that I’d learned meant only one thing. So I pulled him by his scarf into the building’s old main office, one of the few separate spaces left intact, and pressed him against the wall. I nuzzled his hair and kissed him, our tongues touching, wet heat in the cold room.

The window was partially blocked by a stack of sheetrock, and it would have been hard to see inside with the winter sun glaring off the glass. I stood in front of him, and he unbuttoned my coat, sliding his arms around my waist while I unzipped his jacket and unwound his scarf, our mouths locked together.

I played with his nipples under his sweater, and he surprised me by reaching inside my pants and cradling my balls. I tried to shift my dick into his palm, but he grinned against my mouth and lightly squeezed. I pinched his nipple, and he laughed, but didn’t stop what he was doing, feathering his fingers over my balls, and pressing his thumb on the smooth skin behind them.

I let my weight settle more firmly against him, and shifted my hands up to his face, holding it, kissing him. He was sucking lightly on my tongue, and I spread my legs, trying to urge his hand to grip my cock and stop fucking teasing me.

He bit my lip.

“Fuck, Justin…” I was surprised at how rough my voice sounded.

He must have been waiting for me to say something, because he dragged his hand back over my cock, and I groaned as the pressure increased, then subsided, from his first hard touch. He pulled his hand back and I thought he was opening his pants, but he was digging in his pocket. I took the little packet of lube and let him turn around.

I barely lowered my pants; the floor was filthy, I had to go back to work, and it was freezing. Justin only lowered his enough to let me press myself against his ass. I slid inside, and it was hot, and tight, tighter than usual because he couldn’t really spread his legs much.

I spread mine, and bent my knees, and rammed up into him, almost lifting him off his toes. He scrabbled at the wall and then gripped my arms, pressing his weight down on them while I pulled out a little and thrust back in. His head dropped back on my shoulder, and the light from the window fell onto his hair where it splayed out on the fabric of my coat. I pressed my mouth into his hair, and fucked him against the wall.

When we went back to the main building, he seemed quieter than usual. Ted was waiting in my office, and Justin told me “Later,” and left.

Ted mumbled some kind of goodbye to Justin, and then turned to me. I started to respond to him, and then stopped. “Wait.”

Justin was just outside the front doors, and I caught up with him on the sidewalk. I wasn’t wearing my coat anymore, and the wind cut right through the fabric of my suit. “What’s wrong?”

He looked at me for a second, and then he laughed a little. “I’m okay. Why do you think something’s wrong?”

I was wishing we were having this conversation in the office, or even the other building. The wind was vicious. Blue lips and chattering teeth were not hot. “You were too quiet for your post-coital phase. I’ve learned that’s a very bad sign.”

He grinned at me. “It’s way too cold to talk about this out here.” He stood on his toes and kissed me. “Go finish your business with Ted. I’m going to the comic book store. Call me when you’re done. And I’m fine.” He waved over his shoulder and headed down the street towards his car.

I went back inside before my balls froze off.

**Justin’s POV**

I stopped at the diner and picked up two coffees to go before I went to the store. Michael and I were supposed to go over the plans for the next issue of Rage, and I needed caffeine.

The shop was empty, probably because of the freezing wind blowing snow all over the city. Michael was on the phone, and mouthed a silent “thank you” when I set the coffee down in front of him.

I stood near the front window, watching the snow flurrying up against its lower edge, drinking coffee and wondering why Michael didn’t just get a coffee maker in the store.

“So, I was thinking…”

I turned around. “You know, every single story we’ve ever worked on has started with you saying those words. In fact, I think the whole comic started that way.”

Michael gave me a big grin. “Probably. But I really was thinking… what if Rage came back to his lair one day and found out it had been destroyed?”

I thought about it for a minute. “Destroyed… totally? Or just enough to slow him down?”

We debated the merits of total versus partial destruction for a while, and then I frowned. “What’s the rush on this, anyway? We just sent them the last issue two weeks ago. It’s not even out yet.”

Michael shrugged. “It was the sales going up the way they did after the cliffhanger issue. When they get advance orders from the bigger outlets, they need longer lead times on production.”

I usually left the business end of things to Michael, so I just sighed. “And I need more time to produce the art than I used to.”

“Yes, because Brian will tear out my spine if you don’t watch out for your hand.”

“When did it become your job to watch out for my hand?”

“Since Rage, I mean Brian, decided it was.” He grinned at me.

Then we both laughed, because the door opened and Brian walked in.

“Greetings, comic book geeks.” He brushed a kiss across Michael’s cheek and smiled at me. “What’s so funny?”

I shook my head. “You tearing out Michael’s spine.”

He looked at us contemplatively for a second. “I don’t believe I want to know.”

I laughed. “Probably not.” I turned to Michael. “I forgot to ask, how’s Ben?”

“He’s impatient, irritable, and driving me and Hunter crazy.”

Brian’s face broke out in a big smile. “That’s great, Mikey. The shittier the patient is, the better they’re feeling.”

Michael nodded glumly. “Yeah. Why don’t I seem to appreciate that as much as I should?”

I was leaning on the counter, and Brian was standing next to me. I felt his hand slip behind my back. I smiled, but kept talking to Michael. “Are they still thinking they’ll start him on the new drugs at the end of January?”

I listened to Brian and Michael talk about Ben’s new drug regimen, all the time being somewhat distracted by Brian’s hand making small circles on the curve of my ass.

An obsessed teenaged comic book fan came in, and Michael went to help him. I turned around and leaned on Brian. “Hey.”

He smiled at me. “Hey yourself. You ready to go?”

I nodded. “I’ll see you at the house.”

I grabbed my bag and threw my coffee cup in the trash, then waited by the door while he said goodbye to Michael at the cash register. Brian rested his arm over my shoulder while we walked to my car.

He tipped my chin up and kissed me. “See you at home.”

I nodded and walked around to the other side of the car, and waved at him before I pulled out.

**Brian’s POV**

I stopped and got Chinese food, and then went home. I didn’t know what was bothering him, but where Justin was involved, food was always a good place to start.

I went upstairs to change, and heard the shower running. I smiled and stripped off my suit, and went into the bathroom.

Justin didn’t turn when I got into the shower. I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his chest.

Justin wasn’t like Michael. When Michael had a problem, he came barreling out of wherever he was, spewing words and emotions all over the place. Justin seemed to like to pre-process everything before he talked about it, even to me. I could tell from the way that, even under the hot water, his shoulders were still tight, that he was doing that.

I stood there, not talking, just breathing in the steamy air. After a few minutes, I felt him relax against me and bring his arms up, wrapping them across mine. I smiled and pressed a kiss into his hair. And felt my dick getting hard against the small of his back.

Justin turned around inside my arms, and looked up at me, droplets of water all over his face and lashes. He was smiling.

I didn’t say anything, just kissed him. He pressed against my thigh, his cock hardening, and I reached out to turn off the hot water. He looked at me, surprised, but I put my mouth against his ear. “I want you in bed.”

We dried off and went into the bedroom. Justin pushed back the covers, pulling me down on top of him. I kissed him, reaching between his legs and lightly brushing my fingers over the crack of his ass. He arched up, fucking my mouth with his tongue while I slipped my finger into his tight hole. I slid down his body, nestling into his crotch, his legs draped over my shoulders while I rimmed and fingered him.

His balls were tight when I dragged my tongue over them, my finger still buried inside his ass. He moaned when my teeth grazed lightly over the head of his cock, and drove his heels into my back when I sealed my lips around him and slid them down his shaft. His cock pulsed in my throat and I swallowed him down, my face pressed into his pubes, my own hand working my cock while I sucked Justin’s.

I tasted him when he came, salty and hot, while my own orgasm poured out against the sheets and my palm. I let his come fill my mouth and run out a little, then licked my way up his body, following the trail of spit and come to his mouth. His lips were soft and open when I slipped my tongue between them.

It’s always easy to get Justin to talk at times like that, when he’s relaxed and pliant after sex. I started with the sure thing: “I brought Chinese food.”

He lifted his head and beamed at me.

“Which I’ll let you have as soon as you tell me what’s wrong.”

He didn’t seem surprised, just laughed and dropped his head back down. “I had lunch with my mom.”

I’d known that. “And Molly.”

He shook his head. “She didn’t come. My mom said she was being cunty.”

I had to laugh. “I’m going to guess those weren’t her exact words.”

“It’s a rough paraphrase.”

“Go on.” I was letting my fingers trail over his arms and shoulders while he talked.

“My dad….” I tensed when he said that… “told Molly if she wants to go to St. James he’ll pay for it, but if she goes anywhere else, he won’t.”

“Fuck.”

He nodded. “My mom said no child of mine is going there, blah blah blah, and now Molly’s decided it’s the only school she wants to go to. So she hates my mother. And, apparently, me, since it’s all my fault.”

I looked down at him. “Didn’t anyone tell her it’s all my fault?”

He smiled, and kissed my jaw. “No, I think that logic is beyond even Molly.”

I thought for a minute, running his hair through my fingers. “But your dad…”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

I folded my lips in, and then gave his back a light thump. “Food.”

He laughed, and we put on some clothes and went downstairs to eat.

**Justin’s POV**

Brian usually let me decide for myself when to tell him things, but sometimes he would get into what I think he saw as subtle campaigns to encourage me to open up. That night he’d decided to fuck me, feed me, and then go for the casual approach. It was actually kind of cute, in a manipulative and transparent sort of way.

He was on the sofa and I was sitting on the floor in front of him, watching television and eating pot stickers. I leaned against his legs, and tipped my head back. “This is good.”

He nodded, his mouth full of chicken lo mein. “So…” He swallowed. “Your dad.”

I frowned and went back to my food. “That’s nothing new.”

“I guess after a father has his son arrested for standing in front of his store, you’d think so. However, wanting to send his only daughter to the school where his only son almost got killed might make anyone revisit the issue.” He said it all while poking intently at his food with his chopsticks.

I just felt tired, and let my head fall back on his knee again. “Yeah. But what’s the point?” My eyes were closed. “You told me a long time ago that as long as I thought about him as my father, I’d always be hurt. And you were right.”

I felt Brian freeze up a little behind me, but I didn’t open my eyes. He shifted around and slid down next to me, and I looked at him.

“My father could hurt me until the day he died, Justin.” He was looking right at me when he said it. I laid my face against his shoulder for a minute, and then we sat on the floor watching television until we went to bed. He didn’t bring it up again, and I didn’t either.

**Brian’s POV**

I was sitting in my office the next afternoon, trying to decide which felt less irritating: Signing client greeting cards, which were sitting in a pile on my desk with a huge note from Cynthia ordering me to “Sign these now” in red, or looking at Ted’s revised timeline for the Kinnetik expansion into the new building. The art department had gone on a hiring binge to handle a lot of pre-holiday business, and we were going to need them again after the New Year. The problem was we didn’t actually need them right now, and we really didn’t have room for them.

Ted wanted to lease temporary office space, Cynthia thought we should just let some of them work from home, Ted swore that if we did that they’d never adjust to coming into the office fulltime when the new space was ready, and I was ready to just fire everyone, which apparently you can’t do right before the holidays. The whole thing was giving me a headache.

I picked up a silver-ink pen that must have been the creation of Emmett’s counterpart in the stationer’s trade, and started signing my name to the A-list clients’ holiday cards. Fortunately I’d only signed two when my cell phone rang.

“Mikey.”

He laughed. “You sound very glad to hear from me. What boring account am I distracting you from?”

“You don’t want to know.” I snapped the cover back on the pen and leaned back in my chair. “Tell me you’re calling with a huge crisis that will justify my leaving early.”

Silence. I sat up. “Mikey?” He’d been laughing so it hadn’t crossed my mind something was actually wrong. “Is Ben okay?”

“Yes, yeah, Ben is fine.” He paused. “It’s Carl. He had a scare last night, ended up at the ER. It turns out it was nothing, but it could have been his heart.”

I frowned. “Well, that does happen when you eat more than half your meals at the diner and the other half are donuts and bad coffee.” I heard a sound from the door and saw Cynthia glaring at me. I picked up the pen and started signing my name while I talked to Michael. At least until she left the room. “But he’s all right?”

“Yeah. The thing is, he’s going all protective on my mother and insisting she marry him so she can have his pension if he dies.”

I rubbed my forehead. “He hasn’t learned yet that you don’t ‘insist’ on things with Debbie unless it’s the actual opposite of what you want her to do?”

He laughed. “I thought he had. But I guess not. He asked me to talk to her.” He paused. “And I was hoping you’d help me figure out what to say to her.”

I snorted. “Right. Because Debbie’s likely to take advice on love, marriage, and how to live her life from me?”

“Because you’re in advertising and can get people to do things they don’t want to do and make them think it’s their own idea?”

“Hmmm. Good point.” I thought for a second. “When?”

“I was thinking tonight? Dinner? She’s not working tonight. We could meet at the diner.”

I heard a knock on the door, and groaned. It was an intern bearing storyboards for my review. I switched my cell phone to my other hand, and waved her over. She slowly walked to the desk, put them in my hand, paled like a virgin about to be thrown into a volcano when I nodded at her, then scurried out of the room.

I rubbed my forehead again. “Now would be good.” I glanced at the storyboards and the greeting cards. “Or in an hour?”

“See you there.”

I was just scrawling my name at the end of a relatively restrained critique of the storyboards when Ted tapped on the door and simultaneously walked in. I didn’t look up, since he was the only one who did that.

“Michael said you’re meeting him at the diner. I’m meeting Emmett. Can I get a ride with you?”

“Where’s the Lamborghini you bought with your most recent undeserved bonus?” I solemnly ripped Cynthia’s red-letter-note in pieces and left it on the stack of signed cards.

“It’s a Porsche, and it’s in the shop.” Ted sounded resigned.

“I told you to buy American.” I shut my laptop with a snap, went and grabbed my coat, and headed for the door, Ted following behind.

“Yes, because your adolescent dream of a muscle car never spends any time in the shop.”

“Don’t disrespect my car, Theodore.”

Cynthia was hovering in the lobby, looking busy. And innocent. I forestalled her raised eyebrow. “The cards are signed and on my desk.”

She sighed. “Good, because if I don’t mail them tonight, there’s absolutely no chance anyone will get them before Christmas. And what about…”

I cut her off. “So are the new storyboards. And don’t say I never do anything for you; I didn’t fire anyone. And now, if you’ll excuse me...” I pushed Ted ahead of me out the door.

I turned up the collar on my coat when the wind hit my neck. “Fuck. It must be ten degrees.” Ted just nodded while he shivered and huddled his arms around his body.

The Corvette, of course, turned right over and purred like a kitten, undoubtedly as the result of the high four-figure repair bill I’d just paid. Which Ted knew about as he still did my personal books as well as Kinnetik’s. I sometimes contemplated how it was that I trusted a former crystal queen who once tested as having the lowest self-esteem ever measured in the history of gay accountants with my many, many millions of dollars, but I did.

I parked as close to the diner as I could, and we raced for the door and the welcome warmth of its overheated interior. Emmett was sitting at the table in the corner, dozens of papers spread out all over its surface, his cell phone clutched to his ear. I didn’t see Michael, so I slid in next to Ted and waited for Emmett to say goodbye to whatever A-gay or society matron he was schmoozing on the phone.

Ted was pawing through the papers and frowning when Emmett finally said goodbye. “Christ, Em. You need an office.”

Emmett sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think I need an office. And a commercial kitchen. And a business manager. And…”

Ted held up his hand and started a lecture on putting the cart before the horse and depreciation costs and worker’s comp, and I began to wish I’d stayed at the office. Fortunately Mikey walked in just as I was getting ready to bolt, and after he hugged Ted and Emmett, we changed to a booth in the back.

“Can you fucking believe this weather?” He yanked his parka off and threw it on the seat next to him.

“Michael. I didn’t come here to talk about the weather. I came here to plot how to manipulate your mother into marrying Carl and thinking it was her idea.”

“Right. Well, I was thinking… what if I just told her she had my permission as a gay man to marry Carl so I wouldn’t have to support her in her old age?”

“That sounds appealing. ‘Mom, when your husband is dead, don’t expect me to keep a roof over your head with the proceeds from my pornographic gay comic book.’ Brilliant.”

Betty came up and we ordered. When she was out of earshot, Michael frowned at me. “Okay, what’s your bright idea?”

I didn’t have one, but that wasn’t the point. “Are you sure the only reason she won’t marry him is solidarity with all the poor homo schmucks legally prevented from tying the knot?”

I had to give Michael credit; he didn’t so much as glance at the wedding ring on my left hand. He just nodded, his face getting all soft and moony. “I’m absolutely positive.”

I pondered, and Betty brought Michael’s soup and my salad, dressing on the side. I nibbled a lettuce leaf while I thought some more, and finally shook my head. “Nothing’s coming to mind. Is there some kind of deadline? End of the year for tax reasons? Anything like that?”

Michael shook his head. “Can’t think of anything.”

Good. We had time. I smiled. “Don’t worry, Mikey. We’ll get her married off yet.”

He laughed, and when Betty brought our burgers, I decided braving the sub-Arctic temperatures on the way back to the car justified my eating at least a few of Michael’s fries.

“Hello, boys!” It was Emmett, Ted shadowing him faithfully. I sighed and scooted over for Emmett. Michael scooted with a smile for Ted.

Emmett started chattering happily about his new commercial kitchen and how Ted was going to set his business up. I raised an eyebrow at Kinnetik’s CFO, wondering exactly how that was going to work, but Ted avoided my eyes and just shredded a napkin with a little smile on his lips.

“So, what are you doing for the holidays?” It was Emmett, his voice bright.

I looked at him. “You should know. You’re catering the party.”

He lightly smacked my arm with his hand. “That’s business. I mean where are you and Justin spending Christmas?”

“Here in the glorious, festive, seasonally snowy Pitts.”

Emmett started a long narration of the decorations out at the house, doing his best to undermine my Scrooge-like image for Ted, Michael, and anyone else in earshot.

“Gus likes it. And Justin.” I shrugged.

Michael snorted. I glared at him.

Emmett nodded. “Golden gardenias.”

I looked at him. “What the fuck?”

“Anything for Justin.” He looked positively radiant. I think he might have even had a tear in his eye.

I took another fry off Michael’s plate and shoved against Emmett’s hip, a little harder than I had to. He laughed and got up.

I lifted a brow at Ted. “You okay getting home?”

Michael said, “I’ll take him.”

I glanced at Emmett, who shook his head. “I’m meeting a friend, but thanks for caring if I freeze to death like the little match girl.”

I laughed. “A friend?”

Emmett smiled. “A new friend.”

I left Michael and Theodore to get the details out of him. I knew better than to bother; Emmett’s “friends” never stuck around from one week to the next. I had a theory he was still waiting for Drew Boyd to come back, but from the stories I’d heard of Drew fucking his way through every gay celebrity and semi-celebrity in America, it was going to be a long wait.

**Justin’s POV**

I’d felt a weird sense of letdown after my show in New York, and when I’d woken up that morning it was the first time I felt like painting. I’d started a series of small pieces in some weird-ass colors before we left, but they never seemed to take on the textures or exact shades I had in my mind. That day, I pulled the most recent one off my easel and started something completely different on a big canvas, going back to the bolder colors and more slashing lines I’d been working with before the show.

After a few hours, I gave my hand a break. My acupuncturist had suggested I do some exercises to strengthen my back and arms, to compensate for the repetitive motion work I was doing, so I used the gym. Sometimes, when I was working, I had a tendency to isolate myself too much, but considering the blast of freezing air that hit me when I got the mail, I was glad I didn’t have to go out to get to the gym.

When I came back into the studio, I took the canvas off the easel and put it on my worktable. I liked the feeling of brushing big strokes of color onto it from above, and being able to walk around it. I worked for a while more, and was standing back and staring at it, thinking about what color I wanted to mix next, when I saw Brian’s headlights reflecting off the snow outside my studio windows. I had no idea when it had gotten dark.

I had my music on pretty softly, and heard the garage door opening, and him moving around in the kitchen. He usually went upstairs to change when he got home, or into the gym or his media room, but tonight he stuck his head in my door.

“Hey.” I smiled at him, and went over to the sink and started mixing my next color. I’d decided on a green so dark it was almost black. Brian was looking at the painting on the table when I came back.

“What happened to those turd green things?”

“They were gray. A warm greenish gray. I decided to let the concept develop a little more before I finished them.”

He snorted, but didn’t say anything else, just sat down at the table and pulled my sketchbook over to him. It was open to the drawing I’d done at the new Kinnetik building.

He looked at it for a while. “Are you going to paint this?”

I glanced at it, and then went back to my canvas. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

He nodded, and didn’t say anything else. Brian never asked why I didn’t paint most of the things I drew. Brian never asked stupid unanswerable questions. It was one of the best things about him.

**Brian’s POV**

I could tell Justin was going to be painting for a while, so I worked out, and then took a shower and got on my computer. The next time I looked at the clock, it was past midnight. He was still working, and had that totally obsessed, I’m-going-to-paint-all-night look on his face, so I went to bed.

I half woke up when he came into the bedroom, then drifted back to sleep while he was in the bathroom. I surfaced just enough to murmur something when he slid under the covers behind me. He settled against my back, his legs barely touching mine. I opened my eyes and shifted back so he was pressing against me, and I felt him curve his body in response. I smiled, my eyes closing again. “The paint-smeared boy returns.”

He laughed softly behind me. “I washed up first.” He put his hand on my waist, and didn’t say anything more.

I was almost asleep again when I heard something that was not exactly a sigh, really just a long breath. I opened my mouth to tell him his father was an asshole, but it struck me that Justin already knew that. And it wasn’t the point.

So I just hooked my foot under his ankle, pulled his arm tighter around my waist, and fell back to sleep.


	2. Families, Chapter 2

  
  
  
Families, Chapter Two  
By Xie

 _I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at_.” - Maya Angelou

**Brian’s POV**

One minute I was pushing my face against his hole, breathing in his smell and tasting his skin, and the next thing I knew, he was there on his knees under my mouth, saying my name in that desperate voice, his cock dripping on the bed.

He’d long ago stopped trying to come, stopped trying to get me to fuck him. He'd been rocking into the mattress, but I didn’t think he even knew he was doing it anymore.

When I pulled my mouth away from his ass, I could feel the muscles in his legs flex as he followed me with his hips. I leaned into the backs of his thighs with my forearms, pressing them apart, moving him up onto his knees.

His ass opened up when he arched his back, and I could see his hole, wet and dark from my tongue and teeth. I leaned down and pressed my thumbs hard on either side of his opening, spreading his cheeks apart almost roughly. I heard him moan again, and dragged my tongue down his crack.

I traced the wrinkles of his asshole with the tip of my tongue, letting one of my fingers slide through the wetness and then swirl on the skin behind his balls. He groaned and spread his legs further apart. I drove my tongue deep inside him, and he moaned and clenched on it, and said, “Brian…”

Justin saying my name that way, like he didn’t even know another word, always made me crazy. I pulled my tongue out, and pushed it in again, and tried to remember why I wasn’t in him up to my balls right now, his cock in my fist, his tight ass clamping down on me while I rammed my dick up him.

He was thrusting into the air, and making small whimpering sounds every time he exhaled. I started stroking the skin behind his balls, pressing rhythmically, trying to ignore how hard my cock had gotten, how it was smacking against my stomach every time I drove against Justin’s ass with my mouth.

I’d meant to fuck him. But at some point when he was under me, floating, writhing into the bed, I’d started to think I wanted to eat his ass all night, to lick hard at the skin around his opening, and then fuck him with my tongue.

Justin’s hand started moving to his crotch again, and I let go of his ass and grabbed it, holding it pinned to the bed. He just said “Brian” again in a strangled voice, and yanked his hand from under mine. He tugged at my wrist, dragging my hand down to his cock.

I let my fingers close over it, but lightly, and didn’t let him tighten them. He tried to get up and I didn’t let him do that either, holding him pinned with my shoulders against his thighs.

He sank back on his calves, then thrust his ass up again when my tongue didn’t follow him. I let my grip tighten a tiny bit, and he gasped and wrapped his fingers around mine, squeezing, begging me, even though he still didn’t say anything except my name.

I gave up. I needed to feel him come even more than I needed to come myself. I swept my thumb across the smooth head of his cock. I smeared his precome around with my finger, working it down under the rim. I went back for more, and he gasped when I pressed into his slit, working the wetness out, dragging it down over his cock. I let my fist tighten and jerked him fast, the big vein full of his blood pulsing against my palm.

I was still holding his ass open with one hand and fucking him with my tongue. He moved his hand off mine and brought it back and pulled his other cheek open. I felt my tongue slip in deeper, and his ass clenched on it at the exact moment his cock went rigid in my fist. He let go of his ass and grabbed my wrist again, stopping me from jerking him off, while wave after wave of hot come beat out of him and ran down my fingers.

**Justin’s POV**

I fell down onto the bed, Brian’s arm trapped under me. I didn’t care. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t say anything.

I felt him pull his hand away, and move behind me. He groaned, and something about the way he sounded sent a jolt of energy through my body. I looked at him over my shoulder.

Brian was kneeling between my legs, jerking hard on his cock. It was the dirtiest, hottest thing I’d ever seen, his cock straining and rigid in his fist, his hand wet and smeared with my come. I didn’t even think, just scrambled onto my knees and twisted around. I wrapped one arm around his neck and held on, pressing into him everywhere I could, feeling us both slick with spit and come.

I put my hand over Brian’s on his cock, feeling him jerking it faster than I could have. The muscles in his fingers flexed against my palm, and everything was wet and hot. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, the dark head of his dick covered with precome, my fingers twisting over his, the muscles in his stomach clenching.

I felt him kissing the side of my face, sloppy and frantic. He grabbed my chin and made me look at him. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, and I could taste myself on it. I sucked on it, pulling him against me as hard as I could, our hands still grasping his cock, jerking him off.

I heard him groan right into my mouth, and he went rigid against me. He started to come, and it beat out of him, lacing our fingers, hitting my thighs and belly and chest.

Some of his come splashed across my face, hot on my lips, and the taste made me drop down onto him. I sucked and licked at the head of his cock where it thrust out of his fist, letting the last of his orgasm pulse into my mouth. I licked at his fingers, and my own, and cleaned his cock and thighs and stomach with my tongue. At some point I realized he was just lying there, every muscle in his body completely relaxed, one hand in my hair, the other resting on the back of my neck.

I pressed my face into his stomach, and kissed him. I lay there for a while, nuzzling into him, gently kissing the little scar on the edge of his pubes. He just kept stroking my hair. I knew he was smiling without looking.

After a few minutes, I felt him take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I kissed his belly one last time, and dragged myself up to his face. He smiled at me, sleepily, and I kissed his mouth.

When I settled against him, he surprised me by opening his legs and wrapping me up in them, then rolling over on top of me. I let my legs spread so his weight was on the mattress instead of on me, and laughed. “Isn’t this where the whole thing started?”

I felt him smile against the side of my face. “I meant to fuck you, but I guess I got distracted.”

“My ass distracted you from my ass?”

“Mmmm.”

Neither of us said anything for a while, and his hand found its way back to my hair. I was falling asleep when I heard him laugh a little. “At least this is more comfortable than the kitchen table we were on this time last year.”

“We were on? That was _my_ ass getting pounded into the hardwood.” But I kissed him.

**Brian’s POV**

The next morning, Justin was still sleeping when I got out of the shower. The Kinnetik holiday party was that evening, despite all my efforts to postpone, delay, or cancel it. Cynthia and Ted simply ignored me, as always, even when I pointed out that there was a gaping hole in the side of the building leading into the space being renovated next door. I was convinced no amount of Emmett’s fairy-like ingenuity was going to be able to fix that.

My suit for the party was at the loft, so I pulled on jeans and a sweater, then drove into town to get breakfast at the diner. In honor of the season, I did flip the coffeemaker on for Justin before I left.

The diner’s bitter coffee made me regret having left all the artisanal French roast for Justin. “When did you make this, yesterday?”

Debbie glanced at the pot in her hand. “Fifteen minutes ago. We’ve gone through about forty of these since yesterday.”

I made a face. “Maybe it’s time to wash the pot.”

“Ha ha ha.”

I put my mug down. “Refill it anyway. It tastes like battery acid, but I’m drinking it for medicinal purposes.”

When Debbie brought my breakfast, she sat down across from me in the booth. I raised one eyebrow while I took a bite of my omelet. “Please. Join me.”

She shrugged. “It’s slow today. Everyone’s doing holiday stuff. Why aren’t you getting ready for your party?”

I contemplated the hashed browns I distinctly remembered asking her to hold, but considering she’d actually brought me an egg white omelet for once, I decided to let it go. “Because the small army of people I pay to do that kind of shit for me is handling it.”

She laughed. “Married life really has mellowed you, Brian. I remember the day when you didn’t think anyone could put on a party without your obsessive supervision. Way back, oh… last summer.”

I looked at her over the edge of my coffee cup. “Marriage is a wonderful and life-enhancing institution that everyone should take advantage of.”

Debbie gave me a dark look. “You’ve been talking to my kid. Or Carl.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or both.”

“You should let him make an honest woman of you, Deb.”

“If it wasn’t so fucking freezing outside I’d go and look up and make sure the sun wasn’t rising in the west, because I gotta tell you, I never thought the day would come when Brian Kinney was trying to convince someone to get married.” She flicked her fingernail against my ring. “Of course, since lately pigs have been flying, and according to the wind chill factor hell might actually have frozen over, who the fuck knows what’s going on any more.”

I decided to ignore that. “Now, Debbie. Carl just wants to make sure his woman is taken care of if he goes off to the big donut shop in the sky.”

Debbie stood up abruptly, and sloshed the last of the thick, dark coffee into my cup. “I told Carl and I told Michael, and now I’m telling you: I’m not marrying him until my son and the mothers of my granddaughter can have their marriages legally recognized in this country.” She stood there glaring at me until the cook started banging on his bell and hollering for her to pick up an order.

I diluted the bitter coffee with an equal amount of sugar, and finished my breakfast. She came back a few minutes later, a clean cup and a full pot of coffee in her hand. She filled the cup and gave it to me.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you going to force me to show up at your house with a joint and some kind of casserole dish?”

Debbie snorted and sat down. She looked around the mostly empty diner and lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Brian… I know Carl just wants to make sure I’m provided for. But I’d think you of all people would understand that sometimes we have to give up things that are important to us for a principle that means even more.”

I stirred sugar into my coffee. “I can understand that.”

“Well, then. Tell Michael to stay out of it.”

I laughed. “Like you stay out of his life?”

“I’m his mother. I’m supposed to stick my nose into his personal business.”

I just looked at her. She sighed and got up, slapping my check down on the table.

I left her a twenty dollar tip and went to the office.

When I got to Kinnetik, Ted was standing in the entryway, talking to Emmett. He saw me before I came in, and pushed through the doors, stopping me on the sidewalk with a hand on my chest.

I looked down at his hand, and carefully removed it. “Excuse me, Theodore, but you’ll have to practice your Supremes impersonation some other time. I’m freezing my ass off.”

He shook his head. “Emmett says you can’t come in until tonight.”

I stared at him. “Emmett says? The last time I looked, I own this company and this building. What the fuck does Emmett have to say about it?”

“There’s nothing happening today. It’s Christmas Eve Eve.”

Not even Debbie singing the gay national anthem at the diner had given me a headache, but I felt one start to throb at the base of my neck. “Of course. And that means it’s time for the traditional Christmas Eve Eve firing of the caterer.”

Ted nodded and frowned at the same time. “Emmett said you’d say that, and he said to remind you that, one, he has a contract and two, you had enough trouble getting him to do the party on such short notice. You’ll never get anyone else if you fire him.”

I changed tactics. “Where’s Cynthia?”

“She’s getting her hair done.” He put his arm around my shoulder, ignoring my death glare. “Now, why don’t you go get a facial or a massage, or go find Justin and get him to give you a nice, relaxing blowjob, and let us get everything ready for the party?”

We were standing next to the Corvette. I looked at the car, then at Ted, than down the street to Kinnetik. I wasn’t actually sure how he’d done it, but it appeared Ted had won. It was probably his mention of Justin giving me a blowjob. I’d always been easily distracted by getting my dick sucked.

I frowned. “Justin’s having lunch with his mommy. And Theodore, it’s true Jennifer is the very epitome of the perfect PFLAG mom in her support for her son’s way of life and choice of partner. Still, if you really search your soul, I think you’ll agree that even she’d have to draw the line at interrupting their lunch so Justin can blow me.”

Ted patted my shoulder. “Go buy something, then. Are you done with your Christmas shopping?”

“A month ago.” I’d done all my shopping in New York, when I was there for Justin’s show.

“Well, go buy something for yourself, a nice suit, or some new shoes.” Then he frowned. “But don’t buy any nightclubs. Or real estate.”

“Fine. No transactions that require an attorney to complete.” I got in my car, and Ted headed back to my office. I almost laughed, but got out my cell phone instead.

“Where are you having lunch?”

Justin told me, and I groaned. “God, that place is so…”

“Appropriate for lunch with one’s mother?”

I snorted. “How about one’s mother and one’s partner?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be my first choice of restaurants for that, but don’t let that stop you.”

“I won’t. Ten minutes.”

Justin and Jennifer were deep in conversation when I got there. Justin had his eyes fixed on his hands, which were playing with a sugar packet. Jennifer reached out and put her hand on his. Just as I walked up, she said, “I didn’t mean it that way. But you’re both my children and I love you. I always will. No matter what your asshole father does.”

I dropped down into the empty seat. “Craig’s always struck me as an asshole.”

Justin looked up, and Jennifer turned around, and smiled at me. “The fact that he actually struck you probably contributed to that impression.”

I snorted. “It didn’t do much in my eyes for his campaign for father of the year.”

Jennifer’s voice was dry. “You weren’t his choice for boyfriend of the year, either.”

I picked up my water glass and clinked it against hers. “Touché.”

The waiter came and took our orders. After he’d left, Jennifer gave me a very mother-in-law-ish smile. “I was out at the house the other day, Brian. It looks beautiful, all decorated for the holidays.”

I shrugged. “It was my little attempt to lift the neighborhood above the inflatable Santa level it was at before it was queerified.”

“Or at least,” Justin cut in, “that’s Brian’s version of the story. I suspect he has a secret longing for chestnuts roasting on an open fire and fairy lights.”

Ah, payback for pointing out Craig was an asshole. I debated my response, rejected everything as being inappropriate to say in front of Justin’s mother, and gave him a look promising later retribution.

He smiled angelically and asked us to excuse him while he used the restroom. Actually, he said he had to pee. There are some serious gaps in Justin’s country club manners.

Justin and I had decided Jennifer would take what I wanted to say to her better without him listening, so I grabbed the chance. “If you need any help with Molly’s tuition…”

She cut me off. “Thank you for that, Brian, but no. It’s enough that you helped Justin when he needed it. I’m more than able to pay her tuition without any help from…”

“Her asshole father?”

Jennifer smiled. “Exactly.” She changed the subject. “I’m glad you and Justin will be at Debbie’s on Christmas. I was sorry to miss it with him last year. I invited him to Mexico with Molly and me, but he said he couldn’t get away.” Her smile got softer. “I thought he meant work, but apparently he had something else in mind.”

I wanted to squirm but manfully suppressed it. “He’s full of surprises, that boy.”

She arched one perfect brow. “You didn’t know he was coming?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t say a word.”

She was silent for a minute, sipping her wine. “That seems a little…”

I nodded. “I know. And people say I’m the mean one. If they only knew.” And I gave her my best tragic smile.

“You are.” Justin sat back down. “What lies are you telling my mother?”

“He told me he didn’t know you were coming back last year.”

“I wanted to surprise him.”

“By telling him you weren’t coming?”

I didn’t say anything. Let Justin explain this one.

“I never told him I wasn’t coming. I just didn’t tell him anything at all.” Justin was doing the squirming I’d managed to mostly hide.

“You let him think you were staying in New York…”

“Mother.” Justin had a note in his voice I usually associated with Michael, although modulated somewhat by his WASP upbringing.

Jennifer glanced from Justin, to me, and back again. I began to think being estranged from one’s own mother was not the terrible hardship so many people assumed it to be.

I smiled benignly at them both, and signaled for the check.

**Justin’s POV**

I walked to the parking garage with my mom and Brian, and then he came with me to where I’d parked. I pulled his coat up around his neck. “Did you ask her?”

He shrugged. “She turned me down. Just like you predicted.”

I stood on my toes and kissed his jaw. “I’m glad you asked, though.”

He bent his knees and kissed me for a while. His voice was husky. “Are you going to the loft?”

I tugged regretfully on his collar. “Alas, I have to go by the comic book store and sign something. I’m probably already late. I’ll see you there later.”

He kissed me again, and when I pulled out of the parking space and glanced in my rear view mirror, he was watching me. I smiled and waved, and he lifted his hand for a second. From Brian, that was a lot. I rolled my eyes and laughed.

Michael was fastening the gate on the front door when I got there. “I’d given up on you. I have to go home and get ready for the party. I was going to leave you a note.” He held up an envelope with my name on it.

“Sorry. I was having lunch with my mother, and the traffic was for shit. Everyone shopping and getting off work early.” I stamped my feet on the frozen ground, and wished I’d remembered my gloves. “Fuck, I can’t believe how cold it is.”

We went back inside and I signed the new distribution contract. I waited while Michael faxed it to the lawyer’s office, and then walked with him to the car, my hands jammed deep in my pockets. “How’s Ben?”

“He’s great. Everything’s still looking good for the new drugs in January. You’ll see him tonight.”

When I got to the loft, Brian was stretched out on the bed, smoking a joint. I lay next to him and we passed it back and forth between us. I finally rolled over, took it away from him, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and kissed him. He smiled at me in a vaguely aroused, vaguely stoned way that made me hard.

I was kissing down his jaw line when he ruined everything. “Ted said you should give me a blowjob before the party.”

I lifted my head. “We’re taking sex tips from Ted now?”

Brian looked stricken. “No. No, we’re not.” He sat up and pushed me back on the pillows. “I know this will be a huge blow to you, so to speak…”

“Christ.” Even stoned, that wasn’t funny. “So, you can blow me. That’ll cancel the curse.”

He looked down at me. “What curse?”

“The Ted sex curse.”

Brian shoved his hand through his hair. “You’re just saying that to get me to blow you.”

I nodded happily.

Brian considered it, then dove down to my crotch and started unzipping my jeans.

I had my hand in Brian’s hair and the other one tucked behind my head. I closed my eyes and just floated on the feeling of his wet mouth locked around my dick, sliding up and down while his hands gently played with my nipples. I was buzzed from the pot and a good holiday feeling, and I thought I could probably just keep feeling this way all night if we didn’t have to go to the party.

Every time I felt myself get close to coming, I forced it away. That method usually only worked for a limited time with Brian, since he could always tell I was doing it and seemed to take pushing me over the edge against my will as a personal challenge. But that night he was taking his time, sucking on me slowly and a little erratically, letting the feeling flood and recede over and over again. I wriggled my toes and buried my fingers in his hair, and just enjoyed it.

I finally felt my balls pull up in a way I didn’t want to stop, and tugged at his hair. He sped up, bringing his hand down onto my cock and wrapping it around the base, jerking and sucking me off at the same time. His tongue was swirling over the head of my dick, and then under the rim, and I let the feeling fill me up, from my toes up to my stomach.

I grabbed his hair in both fists and pulled his mouth down on me hard while I spilled into his throat. It went on for a long time, and when it was over, I just lay there, trying to remember my name and where I was.

When I opened my eyes, he was lying next to me, his head on his hand. He looked smug.

I ran my finger down his cheek. “Wow, we showed Ted.”

He laughed out loud. I was about to suggest a non-Ted inspired reciprocal act when his cell phone rang. He glanced at it, cursed, and answered it. “You’ve already ruined my day and my sex life, so this had better be important.”

I kicked him. He grinned at me, and threw his leg over mine.

Then his smile vanished. “Fuck.” Silence. “Yeah.” He hung up. “Fuck.”

“You said that.”

“I’ll be saying it a number of times in the next hour or so. I have to go to Babylon. Some asshole was swinging on the sprinkler system on the ceiling in the back room and ripped it out. The manager says the fire department is going to shut us down unless we can get it repaired in the next hour, and Ted can’t leave Kinnetik because of the fucking party.”

“Fuck.”

Brian was already in the bathroom, and I heard him starting the water. I was still post-coital and stoned, so I wriggled under the duvet and buried my head in the pillow. I vaguely heard the water go off after a while, then sounds of Brian swearing, and then the blow dryer. I must have fallen asleep, because a few minutes later, I felt the mattress move, and I woke up.

“Don’t sleep through the party.”

I nodded. “Later.”

“Later.”

I heard him slam the loft door, and I sighed and got up. I showered and changed. I was halfway through a bag of stale potato chips when I realized there’d be much better food at the party.

I walked in the front door of Kinnetik under a cloud of lights, and felt the hum of music coming up through the soles of my feet, like Babylon done over in fairy lights and snow.

I found Emmett in the break room, converted for the night into a catering kitchen. “This is incredible, Em.” I kissed him on the cheek, and took something pretty on a little piece of bread. “This is good.” I took two more.

He glowed at me. “Sometimes you give a party, and you just know. You know?”

We walked out to the bar, and he poured me a glass of wine. “Where’s Brian?”

I gestured towards the door. “Some kind of flood at Babylon.”

Emmett looked alarmed, but I just laughed. “Of non-biblical proportions. He just has to make sure the fire department doesn’t shut the club down.”

We watched the bartenders setting up, piling frosted glasses around a jagged mountain of ice. I contemplated it for a minute. “That’s the least tacky ice sculpture I’ve ever seen.”

 _“Least_ tacky?”

I laughed. “The only non-tacky.” Two waiters came out from the kitchen, and set up a warming station at the end of the bar, then put a large pot on it. “What’s that for?”

Emmett smiled. “Frozen hot chocolate.”

I remembered going to a restaurant in New York with Kalli last December. She’d sworn their frozen hot chocolate would make me rediscover a belief in a benevolent deity and the fundamental justice of the universe. “I had that once in New York.”

A frazzled looking waiter dragged Emmett back to the kitchen. There were already dozens of people there, mostly Kinnetik employees and their dates, laughing and trying to get the waiters to bring them food from the break room.

I pushed on Brian’s office door, but it was locked, and it looked dark inside.

“I can let you in.” It was Cynthia, her hair swept up, one long curl hanging over her shoulder.

“You look beautiful. Merry Christmas.”

She wished me one, too, then started to pull her keys out of a little shiny bag that didn’t look big enough to hold a cell phone. She unlocked the door. “Just lock it when you leave.” She smiled and went back out to the party.

I went in and turned on the desk light. I’d finished my wine, so I took a bottle from the office bar. I wondered how Brian could work in an office without a window he could look out of.

The music outside got a little louder, and I could hear the rising and falling waves of laughter and conversation. I sat on the sofa watching the play of lights on the office doors, and drank Brian’s scotch.

**Brian’s POV**

I convinced the fire marshal to show a little Christmas spirit, gave the plumber enough money to buy Santa’s entire workshop, and headed for Kinnetik. The first thing I heard when I walked in was Cynthia’s laugh. She was standing under a drift of tiny lights, a champagne glass in her hand, talking to Richard Bohling.

“So, did you carefully position yourself so the lighting would highlight all the beads in your dress, or was the effect just pure instinct?” I helped myself to a drink from a passing waiter’s tray.

“Fashionably late, as always, Brian?” She raised her eyebrow in a way she’d learned from me.

I gave her a look that said “Don’t ask,” then turned to her companion. “Richard.”

“Brian.” He shook my hand.

“Couldn’t stay away from the vibrant Pittsburgh nightlife and culture? Or is it our phenomenal weather?”

He laughed. “My family’s here. But this weather’s a phenomenon, all right. I was actually hoping it would be a little better here than in New York, but I think it’s colder.” He took a sip from what I could have sworn was an ice cream sundae glass. With a straw in it. And whipped cream.

He noticed my face, and nodded at his drink. “Frozen hot chocolate. Your caterer seems to have been to Serendipity.”

Hot chocolate. At one of my parties. And one of New York’s wealthiest and most successful club and restaurant owners was drinking it. “I need,” I said, “something a little stronger than hot chocolate.”

I started heading for the bar, and stopped when I saw the formerly gaping hole in the side of the lobby, or rather, didn’t see it. Ted materialized at my elbow in a distinctively Ted-like manner. “I know. I didn’t believe it either.”

Emmett floated over to us. “Amazing what a little cheap gauze, some tarps, and a few strings of Christmas lights can do.”

Ted’s voice was firm. “Or $60 a yard silk organza, white velvet theater curtains, and stage lighting from a theatrical supply house in New York.”

Emmett nodded. “Or that.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Just don’t tell me how much it cost.”

Ted clapped my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Bri, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I decided it was time to change the subject. “Have you seen Justin?”

Emmett answered. “I saw him before the party started. He was wearing a charcoal sweater over black slacks with a white shirt.”

I cut him off before he told me what color socks Justin had on. “I’m familiar with his wardrobe, and I’m pretty sure I could pick him out of a crowd no matter what he had on. Any idea where he is?”

They both shook their heads, so I got myself a drink that contained not one drop of hot chocolate, and surveyed the room.

I had to admit it didn’t look anything like it had the day before. The contractor hadn’t just ripped a hole in the wall earlier in the week; he’d had to remove some of the partitions that attached to that wall, leaving everything looking a little too post-apocalyptic even for a converted bathhouse. Even with the lights dimmed and the liberal application of gauze, I wouldn’t have expected this. It was like being inside an ice palace.

The music changed, this time to something that might actually have gotten played at Babylon. Early in the evening. On a slow night. I took another sip of my drink, and the conversation level rose over the music. Even the tiny lights seemed to vibrate with the beat.

I saw Lindsay on the far side of the room, standing in front of Justin’s paintings with Richard and Ben. She was nodding at something Richard was saying, and Ben was listening intently. She saw me watching them, and walked over to me.

“Emmett’s outdone himself.” She kissed my cheek.

“It’s all right.” I shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. “God, you’re such a shit.”

“Hey, Debbie says I’ve mellowed.”

She snorted, and took something extremely high in carbs and fat from a waiter.

“Don’t eat too many of those, or you won’t be able to wear that rather lovely sweater.” I brushed my fingers across her arm. “Is that cashmere?”

She nodded, her mouth softening. “It was a Chanukah gift from Mel.”

“Ah, she had Emmett do her holiday shopping this year?”

She smacked my arm. “Shut up. Melanie has exquisite taste.”

I gave her a pained look, but in the spirit of the season, I didn’t argue the point.

I schmoozed my clients, greeted Jennifer Taylor and her date, was kind to my employees, made an intern’s night by remembering her name, and finally got to the other side of the room. And I still hadn’t seen Justin.

I knew Cynthia had locked up my office, but I could see a light over by the desk. On a sudden hunch, I tried the door.

And there was Justin, curled up on the sofa with a bottle of scotch in his hand. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a swallow. “Hey.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He grinned at me. “Waiting for you.”

I bit my lip and laughed at the same time. Then I sat next to him on the sofa and he handed me the bottle. I took a long swallow, set it on the table, and dropped my arm along the back of his shoulder.

He smiled and ran his hand over my thigh. “So, I think we’ve averted Ted’s curse.”

I looked at him sideways. “How’s that?”

“He told you to let me blow you before the party. The party’s going on now, so it’s no longer before the party. Therefore, no more curse.”

I laughed, and pulled him closer, kissing him. His mouth tasted like scotch, and his hand moved up to my belt, starting to unfasten it.

When he closed his fingers around my cock, I groaned into his mouth. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and kept kissing him even while he started to slide down towards my crotch.

“Brian?”

“Fuck. Theodore.”

Justin was laughing into my shoulder.

“Brian, it’s time for the speech. Cynthia said she thought you were in here…”

Justin was still laughing, and whispered, “We’re still cursed.”

I pinched him. “I’ll be right there.”

I waited until Ted left, then touched my forehead to Justin’s. “I’m firing him. Right after Christmas.”

Justin just kissed me. “It’s not like you don’t owe me ten thousand blowjobs already.”

I looked at him. “Why does that number keep getting higher no matter how many times I blow you?”

He flicked his thumb over the head of my dick, and I groaned.

**Justin’s POV**

We went back out into the sparkling noise, and Brian took two glasses of champagne from the bar and handed me one. I smiled over the edge of my glass, seeing three people, including Richard Bohling and the head of Kinnetik’s art department, standing in front of my paintings.

Brian squeezed the back of my neck. He got up on a little makeshift platform, gave a short and sincere-sounding speech about the season, grinned at everyone in a way that told them he didn’t mean any of it, then raised his glass and knocked it back like it was a tequila shot instead of a goblet full of painfully expensive champagne.

He was surrounded by clients the minute he was done. I went over to where my mom and her date were laughing with Debbie and Carl. While pretending to be enthralled by a discussion of the college and career plans of everyone’s various children, I saw Lindsay. I wandered over to her, slid my arm around her waist, and kissed her cheek. “I love the color of your sweater.”

She laughed. “You, Emmett, and Brian all admired it. I’ll have to tell Mel she hit the gay-men-with-good-taste trifecta.”

Emmett walked up and bent down conspiratorially. “Who’s the tall dark and hot with your mother, and what happened to the hunky boy toy?”

I took a sip of my wine. “Tucker went to California to get his PhD, and the guy she’s with is the head of the commercial real estate division at the agency where she works.”

Emmett looked at my mom’s date for a long minute. “He’s yummy. Your mother has excellent taste in men.”

“With one notable exception,” I commented dryly.

Emmett looked stricken. “Oh, honey! Is your father still financing the anti-gay fundamentalists? He hasn’t had you arrested again, has he?”

Lindsay choked on her wine, but I just laughed. “No. He’s just decided my sister has to go to St. James or he’s not paying her tuition.”

Lindsay and Emmett both stared at me. “I don’t think,” Emmett said slowly, “even my daddy back in Hazelhurst would have done that.”

I shrugged. The shrug having become a fundamental part of my communication repertoire recently.

“What does your sister think about that?” It was Lindsay, concern written all over her face.

“She’s all for it.” I didn’t even bother trying not to sound bitter. “She blames me because our mom won’t let her go there.”

Emmett snorted. “Blames you?”

I suddenly didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I can do about my dad. I figured that out a long time ago.”

Lindsay looked distressed, but dutifully changed the subject. “Your paintings look beautiful where Brian hung them, although I assume this isn’t how they’re normally lit.”

Emmett got dragged off by one of his staffers. Lindsay and I wandered over to where my paintings were hung, and I contemplated the effect of the dim lighting. “I actually like the way it makes the metallic elements more subtle.”

She tilted her head. “It makes the paintings too decorative.”

I glanced at her. “They border on that already.”

“I don’t agree. They play with that. It’s completely different.”

I felt myself smile, but didn’t say anything.

Lindsay looked at me for a minute. “There’s some benefit to having watched your work develop from sketches of Brian to what you’re doing now.”

“I still sketch Brian.” I sipped my wine.

She nodded. “You always will. And I hope you’ll always sketch Gus, and Jenny Rebecca.” She sighed. “It’s part of why you’re an artist, and I manage an art gallery. I could stop. You never could, even when you could barely hold a pencil.”

“This looks serious.” It was Melanie, two glasses of wine in her hands, Ben right behind her. She handed one of them to Lindsay, and then kissed me. “Happy Holidays.”

Lindsay’s voice was full of laughter. “That’s her subtle form of protest against the Christianization of modern society.”

Ben shook his head. “All cultures celebrate some form of winter holiday or festival. Christianity just co-opted the time of year.”

“Christians will tell you modern society is being de-Christianized.” I shrugged. “Just ask my father.”

Mel snorted. “What’s the asshole doing now?”

Lindsay and I looked at each other, and then back at Mel and Ben. “He wants my sister to go to St. James.”

Ben looked disgusted. Melanie choked, and Lindsay thumped her on the back. “You’re kidding.” She looked at my face, then at Lindsay’s. “You’re not kidding.”

“Not kidding.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

I laughed. “More Christianization of modern society?”

She nodded just as Emmett came back. “Fuck, yes. Has your father lost his fucking mind?”

Emmett shook his head. “Based on the one time I met Justin’s father, I’d say that’s a good guess.”

“You didn’t exactly _meet_ my father.” My wine glass was empty, and I set it down.

Emmett nodded agreeably. “True. I watched your father beating up Brian. That doesn’t count as meeting him.”

“I’d have…”

Lindsay cut Melanie off. “So, Justin, when is your next show?”

I grinned at her. “I’m going to have three pieces included in a group show at a gallery in Boston in March.”

Ben beamed at me. “Congratulations, Justin. That’s great.”

Emmett and Melanie were talking to each other quietly and giggling, and Lindsay glared at them. Emmett looked slightly guilty, and gave me his best social butterfly smile. “Where’s Daphne tonight?”

“Florida. She keeps leaving Pittsburgh and going to warm, tropical places for the holidays. Last year she was in Hawaii.”

Emmett shook his head. “I’m always ready to fly somewhere tropical by February, but this time of year I want snow and mittens and holly and Christmas trees.” He sighed dreamily. “And hot cocoa.”

“And shoveling snow and traffic and heating bills that cost more than the mortgage.” It was Melanie, spreading more seasonal cheer.

I went to the bar and got another drink.

**Brian’s POV**

I was leaning on one of the few remaining walls in my building, watching Michael work his way through the crowd towards me. I had my hand casually wrapped around the neck of a bottle of champagne that I planned on using to lure Justin into my office for the blowjob he kept getting out of giving me.

“Shit, Brian, this is as bad as Babylon.” Michael kissed my cheek.

I put a shocked expression on my face. “I can’t believe you could be so insensitive as to suggest that vast, overwhelming crowds at my club are a bad thing.” I sipped my drink. “How else can I afford all this?” I gestured at the sparkling space in front of us.

Michael looked out at the crowd. “Yeah. Right. It’s Babylon that pays for Kinnetik.”

“Babylon pays its way.”

He looked at me, and smiled. “Even if it didn’t, you’d keep it anyway. I know how you feel about your playground.”

“You know, Mikey, being the CEO of your playground has its drawbacks.”

He looked down at his drink and didn’t say anything, but he smiled in a very irritating way.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Christ.” I shook my head and started to walk away.

Michael grabbed my arm, laughing. “Hey!”

I shook him off, but I stopped. “What is it about me that draws all these irritatingly persistent assholes into my life, who follow me everywhere I go?”

“It’s either your natural charm or you give off some kind of hormone smell. Like a dog.” It was Debbie, her gigantic Christmas tree ball ornaments bobbing against her neck. I fought the impulse to take a long swallow from the bottle I was still clutching in my left hand.

“Debbie. How lovely you look tonight.” I made my voice as genuine as possible. And in fact, she did look nice, glowing and not too colorful. Apparently Emmett had picked out her outfit, if not the earrings.

“Great party, Brian.” It was Carl, solid and ill-shod as always. I shook his hand, murmured all the expected things, and finally escaped everyone. I cornered my prey at the bar, and nuzzled his neck from behind.

“Aren’t you supposed to blow me?”

Justin gave me a look over his shoulder. “Supposed to?”

I nodded. “I had it all planned. I don’t know what keeps going wrong.”

He laughed. “It’s the Ted curse.”

I stood at the bar with him for a while, drinking and watching the room start to empty out. It was the night before Christmas Eve, and almost everyone was going somewhere else – another holiday party, home to wrap presents, some family thing. The music had dropped in volume, and I wondered if Emmett played subliminal messages telling people when it was time to get out.

I felt Justin’s hand start stroking my ass. I checked the bottle of champagne, got one of the bartenders to exchange it for one that was still cold, and pulled Justin by his hand back to my office.

It was still unlocked, but it was empty. I even checked the bathroom. And then I locked the door.

**Justin’s POV**

Brian and I were sitting on the sofa in his office, passing the champagne bottle back and forth. It had gotten warm and kind of flat, but we were so drunk we didn’t even notice. We were arguing over the terms of Ted’s curse and whether the party was actually over or not and if I should risk trying to blow him.

“Maybe,” I said, turning the bottle over to make sure it was really empty, “we should just go home.”

He looked sadly at the bottle, and pulled out his cell phone. He stared at it for a minute, and then punched in the car service number. He had it on speaker, and I heard them greet him by name.

“I’m at Kinnetik and I’m too drunk to drive home.” He sounded very cheerful for a man making what could have been a humiliating confession.

The dispatcher wasn’t phased. “Five minutes, Mr. Kinney.”

He snapped the phone shut. “They’ll be here in five minutes.” He glanced at me. “That’s not enough time, is it?”

I shook my head. “Not when I’m drunk.”

He stood up, held out his hand, and hauled me up next to him. I grabbed onto him, and we kissed sloppily for a few minutes. We were about to fall back down on the sofa again, when he shook his head. “Wait, the car’ll be here in a minute. We have to go out there.”

He steered me through the door. There wasn’t anyone left but the crew and Emmett, who was sitting on the counter talking to Ted and Blake.

I went up on my toes behind Brian, resting my hands on his shoulders. I put my mouth right at his ear. “Don’t let him curse us again.”

Brian snorted and then laughed, then snorted again.

The three of them turned around and saw us. Ted opened his mouth, but Brian held up a hand. “Nothing, Theodore. If you value your year-end bonus, don’t speak.”

The car pulled up just then, and the driver called Brian on his cell phone while we were pulling on our coats. I ran for the car and slid into the back, but even just the short time I was outside sucked all the heat out of my body. The cold air burned my lungs.

Brian slid in next to me, and slammed the door. I could feel the car’s heat then, and I felt even warmer when Brian put his arm around me. I kissed him most of the way home, just breaking away when we turned down our street. I liked to see the Christmas lights through the trees.

I left Brian giving the driver an obscenely large tip, and fumbled with my key at the front door. I couldn’t get it open, and I looked at Brian and frowned. “I’m not that drunk. My hands are just frozen.”

He took my key and tried it, and we finally got the door open. The blast of warmth from the house hit us. It was early, not even midnight yet.

Brian kissed me in the hall, and then he stopped me when I was going up the stairs in front of him, and kissed me again. He was standing on the step below me, so we were the same height. I nuzzled his hair, and he wrapped his arms around me and just held me for a long time.

I looked at his face, and smiled. “Come on.”

We went into the bedroom, and I kicked off my shoes. I knelt on the bed, sitting on my heels, while he got undressed. He knelt next to me when he was done, and pulled my sweater off over my head. He didn’t kiss me, just looked at me while he unbuttoned my shirt and unfastened my pants.

Then he smiled, and glanced at the clock next to the bed. “It’s midnight.”

I shook my head, confused. “What?”

He kissed me softly. “The curse. It must have lifted at midnight.”

I grinned at him, and closed my hand on his cock, making him give a sharp moan. “Lie down.”

He did, pulling me down next to him. I shoved my shirt off, then wriggled out of my pants and pushed them both onto the floor with my feet. I leaned on my elbow, stroking Brian’s cock with my other hand, and looking at his face. He had a really small, soft smile on his lips, and he’d wrapped his fingers lightly around my wrist on the arm I was leaning on.

I bent over his cock and swiped my tongue over the head, tasting his come and his skin. He moved, lifting his hips the tiniest bit towards my mouth, spreading his legs a little further apart. I murmured against his cock, kissing up and down its length, my free hand stroking gently at the insides of his thighs.

I could make Brian come in a minute, and I could hold him off for hours. I didn’t feel like playing any kind of game that night, though. I just wanted to keep him in my mouth, to breathe in his smell and taste him on my tongue. I wanted to feel him arching under me, and his hands gripping my hair.

He’d bent his knees, and I wrapped my left arm around one of his thighs, playing with my finger on his perineum. He reached down and moved my hand a little, and I cradled his balls in my palm, pressing them just slightly up towards his body, making him shudder and arch towards me even more.

I pulled my mouth away from his cock, replacing it with my hand, and buried my face in his balls, licking and sucking on them both. I flattened my tongue on his fake one, and gently pulled it into my mouth. When I moved to the other one, he gasped.

I lifted my head and looked at his face. His eyes were open, and he was watching me, his lips parted, breathing shallowly and fast. I smiled, and dragged my tongue from the base of his cock to the rim, right over the big vein. When he started thrusting into my mouth, his fingers so tight in my hair it hurt, I opened my throat and swallowed around him.

Brian gave another one of those hard moans, and I started moving my lips faster, sealing them in a tighter ring around his cock. I buried my nose in his pubes then pulled back, and then dove down again, taking him deeper every time. I had one hand wrapped around his thigh and the other resting on his stomach, and I could feel his muscles quivering.

When he came he almost shouted, but he bit it back, his head pressing into the pillow and his feet into the mattress. I could barely taste it before it went down my throat, but I pulled back at the end and caught the last drop on my tongue. I brought it up to him, and he licked it off my lips, his arms pulling me down on top of him, his hands smoothing the hair he’d been pulling so hard a minute before.

A little while later, he’d stopped stroking my hair, and his breathing was slow enough that I thought he was asleep. My eyes were closed and I was slipping over the edge of warm darkness when I heard him whisper, “I’m glad you came back.”

I didn’t wake all the way up. I thought maybe I was dreaming it. But I moved my face down so my cheek was on his heart, and curled my fingers around his hand.


	3. Families, Chapter 3

  
  
  
Families, Chapter Three  
By Xie

" _The people people have for friends  
Your common sense appall  
But the people people marry  
Are the queerest folk of all_."  
\- Charlotte Perkins Gilman

**Justin’s POV**

Brian walked into the kitchen on Christmas Eve morning, completely naked. Which wouldn’t have been in any way unusual except that I was sitting at the table drinking coffee with Michael.

Brian stood in the doorway looking bewildered. He shoved his hand through his hair, bit his lip, furrowed his brow, and in general seemed unable to process the fact that I wasn’t alone.

Michael grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

Brian frowned a little harder. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Returning your fucking Corvette. And…” Michael glanced at his watch. “Ben is about five minutes away from here with our car, to pick me up.”

Brian looked at him reproachfully. “Which means you drove my car too fast, as usual?”

“Which means he had to stop and drop some pans off at my mom’s. I drove at or below the speed limit the entire way here. Your fucking car is a magnet for cops, you know.”

Brian snorted. “I’ve never gotten a ticket.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “In the last week, you mean.”

Brian opened his mouth but seemed to have suddenly lost his ability to follow the conversation, so I took pity on him and put a cup of coffee into his hand. Then I turned him around and gently pushed him out of the room. Hopefully the next time we saw him, he’d have at least put his pants on.

I refilled my own cup, and Michael looked at me. “I wonder if he’s just hung over, or actually still drunk.”

I considered. “We did get pretty wasted last night.”

He laughed. “I’ll drink to that.”

I emptied the last of the coffee into his cup, and glanced out the window while I started a fresh pot. “Ben’s pulling into the driveway.” I looked again. “It looks like Deb’s with him.”

“Oh, fuck.” I thought he was just saying it out of habit, but I was wrong. “She’s pissed as hell at me right now about the wedding thing. That’s the whole reason I had Ben drop off her pans instead of doing it myself. Fuck.”

I met them at the door, and Debbie got lipstick all over my face while Ben was still wishing me a Merry Christmas. She laughed and headed for the living room, and I heard Michael hissing at Ben, “Why the fuck did you let her come with you?”

He shook his head. “She wanted to see Brian and Justin’s house decorated for the holidays.”

“Why did you tell her you were coming here in the first place?”

“She asked me!” Ben sounded aggrieved. “I can’t lie to your mother!”

Michael put his hands on Ben’s shoulders. “Ben, you will never survive in this family if you don’t develop that skill immediately.” He gestured at me with his chin. “Ask Justin.”

I nodded. “A valuable skill when it comes to Deb. I agree.”

“You guys!” It was Debbie, from the living room. “Where are you? Somebody needs to turn these tree lights on.”

I went into the living room and turned on the lights. I can lie to Deb, but disobeying a direct order is a skill even Brian has only half-mastered. I even made a fire.

After a few minutes I heard sounds from the kitchen, and hoped it was Brian getting more coffee. With his pants on.  
 **  
Brian’s POV**

I decided to let Justin handle the Christmas Eve home invasion without me. I had a hangover and while I couldn’t quite remember the details, I was almost completely sure it was his fault.

Unfortunately, Michael showed up in the kitchen when I was getting more coffee, still with that stupid grin on his face. "I didn't realize your place had gone clothing optional."

I rubbed between my eyes. "Why are you here?"

"Returning the…"

"Corvette. Right. I remember." I took a long swallow of coffee.

Michael perched on the counter, his feet swinging. "Glad to see you put some clothes on."

His heel hit the cabinet door, and I flinched. "Why? Everyone here's seen it before."

He snorted. "My mother's seen your dick?"

"Deb's here?"

Michael nodded. "She tricked Ben into bringing her."

I contemplated how that probably happened. "Native cunning will triumph over IQ every time."

"Ben doesn't want to believe that."

Ben walked into the kitchen. "What don't I want to believe?"

I looked at him, and drained my coffee cup. "That Debbie's smarter than you are."

Ben put his arm around Michael's shoulder, glanced down at him, then back at me. "I'm so not going there."

"Why, Professor," I said, refilling my cup, "Maybe you're smarter than I thought."

Michael jumped down off the counter, and went back out to Justin and his mom. I gestured at the coffee pot. "Want some?"

Ben shook his head. "I'm off coffee for now."

"Wow. Are you sure you actually need your pancreas?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Believe me, if I didn't, I'd have been glad to get rid of it." He looked right at me. "So, as long as nothing else goes wrong, I start the TIND protocol in around three and a half weeks."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just waited.

"I wanted to thank you for…"

I shook my head. "It's nothing."

Ben nodded. "Not to me, and not to Michael. But we can leave it at that."

I stood up. Suddenly sitting around the Christmas tree with Debbie and Justin didn't seem so bad. "I guess we should…" I gestured towards the door.

Ben looked very slightly amused, but he didn't say anything, just nodded and followed me to the living room.

Justin was talking in a low voice to Debbie, but he cut off whatever he was saying when we came in.

She beamed at me. "The place looks gorgeous, Brian. You should have had a party. It's a shame to let it go to waste."

"We don't waste it. Justin sits in here all starry-eyed at least once every evening." I sat down in the chair across from the sofa, and Justin threw a pillow at me.

I threw it back, and Debbie glared at me. "Hey! Watch out for innocent bystanders."

"He threw it first!"

She rolled her eyes. "And people worry that you're too old for Justin." She got up. "Well, I have a lot of cooking and cleaning to do…and remember, be there tomorrow by 2, not one minute later!"

Ben and Michael stood up dutifully, and Justin and I walked them to the hall. The minute we closed the front door behind them, I pushed Justin against it. "Don't let anyone else in."

He laughed and patted the side of my face. "Don't worry. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"Bullshit." I kissed him, and he scrunched up his nose.

"I think we both need a shower."

I nuzzled his neck. "Hot tub."

He considered. "Not very Christmas-y."

"It is when there's snow piled up outside." I shifted my thigh between his legs and pressed against his half-hard cock, just to emphasize the appropriately seasonal nature of my suggestion. I kissed him again, and tasted coffee in both our mouths.

I shifted my thigh in closer, and felt him sigh into my mouth. "Okay."

**Justin's POV**

Brian was lying back against the other side of the spa, his legs tangled with mine, his eyes closed. It was the first time all day the little furrow between his brows was gone.

I slid forward, and ran my hand up the inside of his calf. He let his legs fall apart, one foot slipping down to the floor.

I loved the way his balls floated against my palm, and how relaxed his muscles felt in the hot water. I kept cradling his balls lightly, feeling one more buoyant than the other, while my other hand tightened on his cock. I looked at his face, and he was biting his lip, his head tipped back, beads of moisture on his chest and throat.

I gave him a long, slow hand job, letting him float on the feeling until he finally arched his back and came, a hot cloud in the water. I lay across him then, kissing him, rubbing against his thigh until I came, too. And then we both lay there, warm and drowsy, my arms loosely tangled around his neck to keep me from floating off.

"Now, this is a Christmas Eve tradition I can get behind." He hadn't opened his eyes, but when I glanced at his face, he was smiling a little.

I grinned against his neck. "Hmmmm."

He bounced me a little. "And you've also cured my hangover."

I laughed. "It's my new superpower."

He snorted. "Everything in our lives ends up in that fucking comic, eventually."

"Or vice versa."

He kissed my hair, but didn’t say anything.

I sat up. "Are we staying in here all day?"

He shook his head, stood up, and offered me his hand. I let him pull me up, and then handed him a towel. I was standing there, staring out at the snowy landscape outside the steamy glass walls, when I heard him talking in the next room. I walked in, still toweling my hair.

"I paid them to hook it up, not just drop the box on the floor and run. Did you tell them to hook it up?"

The furrow in his brow was back. I frowned.

"We can stop by on our way to Debbie's tomorrow…" He looked pained, and held the phone away from his ear. I looked at him, and he mouthed, "Lindsay."

"Okay, fine, I'll come now." He slammed the phone shut, and said "Fuck" very loudly and succinctly.

"Santa get his orders mixed up?"

"Fuck Santa, fuck the assholes from the electronics store, and fuck fatherhood."

"Too late for that last," I pointed out.

"They didn't hook up the PlayStation 3, they just dumped the box in the middle of the family room. And Lindsay, of course, instead of getting a knife out of a kitchen drawer and holding it on them until they do what I paid them to do, phones me. And wants it hooked up while Melanie has Gus out at some kiddy ice skating party."

"I'll come with you. It'll be fun."

He looked at me like my head had just rotated 360 degrees. I laughed and walked over to him, stood on my toes, and kissed him. He wasn't wearing anything except the towel around his waist, and I wasn't wearing anything at all.

He bumped my forehead with his. "I can think of things that would be a lot more fun."

I smiled. "Me too, but I'm trying to make a virtue out of necessity." He groaned, and I cupped his ass through the towel. "We can take my car. It'll be…"

"I know. Fun." He groaned again.

**Brian's POV**

If I had known when Lindsay asked me to jerk off in that cup that it would one day lead to sitting on my ass on a family room floor connecting PlayStation 3 for my six year old son's Christmas present, I'd have cut off a ball before agreeing. Of course, all things considered, it's a good thing I didn't know.

She'd been hovering over me in a mommy-ish, worried way, and Justin had eventually gotten her to back off a few feet. They were sitting on the sofa, but I could feel her eyes boring into the back of my head from time to time. I swore at the cover on the controls, and looked at her. "I still don't see why we had to do this today. I could have come by on the way to Deb's tomorrow…"

She snorted. "Oh, right, we're going to hook up his present and immediately go out the door. He'd do nothing but whine and complain all night."

I shrugged while I jammed the control cover back on. "Hey, that's what you signed up for when you decided to be the parent. As a drop-in dad, I only have to do the fun stuff."

"And anything electronic." Her voice was firm.

I stood up, and triumphantly turned the system on, controls in my hand. "Hah!"

"Oh, good." She was smiling like she'd never had a doubt in her mind.

I nodded. "I should hire myself out next year, hooking shit up for hysterical parents. I could really clean up."

Justin stood up and patted me on the shoulder. "Between that and your paper route, you might even be able to pay your monthly moisturizer bill."

Lindsay's cell phone rang, playing a tinny rendition of Jingle Bells. I wondered if it was possible for a hangover to come back.

"Hi, Mel. It's done…"

She listened for a second. "Brian and Justin are still here, let me ask them if they want to come." She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "They're going to Angeli's for hot chocolate and want to know if we want to meet them."

Justin was nodding and I was shaking my head. They ignored me.

"Everyone in Pittsburgh is going to be there picking up cannoli for tomorrow," I pointed out, perfectly reasonably. "The line will be around the block."

Lindsay shook her head. "They have a separate line for people picking up special orders. It'll be fine." She smiled at him. "Gus will be so happy to see you."

"Gus will see me tomorrow." But we were already halfway out the door.

I hated the holidays. I hated them even more when we got to Angeli's and the parking lot was full. I hated them slightly less when Gus caught sight of me from the park across the street and came racing over to hug me, shouting "Daddy" at the top of his lungs.

I felt his small body hit mine with the force of a cannonball, and picked him up with a grunt. He really was getting too big for this, but as long as his Uncle Ben could pick him up, I wouldn't admit defeat. "Hey, Gus."

He beamed at me and wriggled to be let down. "Did you come for hot chocolate?"

"I came to see you." He nodded happily, and immediately started telling Justin how he was going to learn to play hockey before next winter – Justin, whose greatest athletic achievement had been learning to distinguish between a football and a baseball, instead of me, who had actually played ice hockey.

We finally got a table, and Melanie helped Gus get out of his little snowsuit jacket while Lindsay asked the waitress for a highchair for JR. She turned to look at me when she was done, and laughed. "It won't kill you, Brian. I promise."

I felt Justin's hand on my thigh under the table. "Did I say anything?"

Mel snorted. "You look like you're being disemboweled."

"I have a headache." I felt Justin's fingers tighten on my leg, and I put my hand over his. I didn't look at him because I knew he was laughing at me.

I ordered coffee when they ordered hot chocolate. "You know, with all the sugar you put in that," Lindsay said, "you may as well get the cocoa."

I sipped it. "Feel free to mother my son, his sister, and Melanie if she'll let you. I'm a big boy now and can handle ordering my own beverages." Justin had taken his hand away to stir the whipped cream into his hot chocolate, and I missed it. He started chatting to Lindsay about his upcoming show in Boston, and after a while, I felt his hand come back. I put mine back over it and tuned everyone out.

Melanie was spooning a little whipped cream into JR's mouth, but she spit it out. Melanie sighed. "Maybe we should have gotten her a coffee, too."

Lindsay pushed back her chair and pulled her coat on. "I'll take her outside. She's been cranky all day."

Justin got up with her. "And I'm going to use the bathroom." He headed for the back of the bakery, where a line almost as long as the one to pick up cannoli snaked among the crowded tables.

Gus put his mug down. "Are you and Justin going to Grandma Debbie's for Christmas tomorrow?"

"We'll be there." I raised an eyebrow at Melanie. "Grandma Debbie?"

She shrugged. "Keeps things simpler."

I laughed, and Melanie gave me a strange look. "What?"

"I was just thinking, the kid's got three legitimate grandmothers, but the one who isn't his grandmother at all is the only one of the four I'd let hold his hand to cross the street."

Melanie smiled at Gus. "He's lucky. He has a huge family that loves him. The rest doesn't matter."

Gus was listening, but he'd clearly had enough of the Oprah bullshit. "What did you get me for Christmas, Daddy?"

I pushed my chair back and stood up. "I guess you'll find out tomorrow." I nodded at Mel. "We should let some of these people have the table."

She nodded, and picked up Gus' coat while I took the bill from the harried waitress.

I was standing at the cash register when a bundled up Gus trudged over next to me, followed by Melanie, struggling into her down jacket, Gus' mittens in her hand. I handed my money to the cashier, and glanced over at the line of people waiting for their holiday orders. One of whom was my sister Claire.

I didn't say anything, not even when she saw me, turned pale, then red, and looked down. I was aware in a vague way that Melanie was standing closer to me than she usually did, and I wasn't sure, but I thought for just a second her hand brushed across my back. But when I looked at her, she was helping Gus with his mittens.  
 **  
Justin's POV**

The line for the bathroom was ridiculous, and when I finally got out of there, Brian was at the cash register with Mel and Gus. I worked my way through the crowd, and as I walked up behind them, I wondered if he and Mel had been fighting. He seemed tense, and so did she.

I slid my arm around his waist, and I felt the muscles in his back twitch. "You ready?"

He just nodded, and brushed past the line of people waiting at the counter to get to the door.

When we got out onto the sidewalk, Melanie kept walking, holding Gus' hand while she crossed over to where Lindsay was pushing JR in a baby swing. I looked at Brian. "Was that Claire?"

He nodded, and I leaned into him. He didn't move, or relax, and I felt a flare of anger so intense it actually frightened me. But I kept my voice light. "Tis the season for cunty sisters, I guess."

I held my breath, and after a minute, I felt him exhale, and laugh a little. "I guess so."

I tugged on his hand and we went across the street, where Melanie and Lindsay were watching Gus push JR in the swing.  
_________________________

Brian was quiet all the way home. It had started to snow again, so I kept my eyes on the road, and let him do whatever it was he was doing.

When we pulled into the garage, he sat there for a minute, and I unfastened my seat belt, shifted in my seat and looked at him. He looked at me. For a second everything hung in the air between us, him shutting down, shutting me out. Me having no choice except to step back and let him. I felt angry again, and I wasn't sure if it was at Brian, or his fucked up family.

I turned abruptly and got out of the car. It was getting cold, too cold to sit there. When I got to the other side of the car, he opened the door and stood in front of me. I could see our breath, even inside the garage. He just stood there, looking at me.

"Stop it." I put my hands on either side of his head, and tightened my fingers in his hair. "Just stop."

He didn't even pretend not to know what I meant. I felt him frozen right on the edge of something I couldn't identify or name, but just feel. I stared into his eyes, and brought my mouth right up to his, and breathed against him.

After a long, long minute, he wrapped his hands around my shoulders, and let his face rest against mine. He was gnawing on his lip, and I touched his mouth with one finger. Talk to me, I thought.

He pulled back, and I wondered for a minute if I'd said it out loud. But he just said, "Come on. It's cold."

I followed him inside, where it was warm. I stripped off my jacket and scarf, and hung them next to his coat. He was leaning on the kitchen counter when I walked in, drinking a beer, another one open next to him. I walked over and picked it up, and leaned against the counter, too.

He glanced down at me, grinned over the neck of the bottle, and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. It was cold from the bottle. He pulled me in close to him, and I almost let him kiss me, almost let him put his leg between mine.

"Brian…"

He ignored me, pulling the bottle out of my hand and setting it next to his on the counter. He kept kissing me, but I put my hands flat on his chest. "Brian."

He looked me right in the eye. "Fuck my cunt sister, and your cunt sister, and my mother, and your father. And the whole asshole world that thinks nothing says 'family values' like having your loved ones arrested."

Even though I didn't really want to, I laughed. I couldn't help it. "You were only brought in for questioning. _I_ was actually arrested."

He looked at me, and folded his lip inward for a second. "On a misdemeanor trespass charge. _Mine_ was a felony."

I let him pull me back up against his body. His hands were tugging at my hair, and I had a sudden idea of how we were going to be spending our Christmas Eve. "Okay. You win."

He eyed me skeptically. "You're just saying that so I'll fuck you."

I shook my head. "Not quite."

I let one hand brush over the curve of his ass, and he barked a short laugh. "The ever-opportunistic Justin Taylor. Taking advantage of my weakened condition."

I bit his lip lightly. "It's a Christmas Eve tradition."

"What, me waking up on Christmas morning with a sore ass and a hangover?"

"The hangover is optional." I patted his ass. "And I'll be gentle."

He snorted. "For the first two minutes."

"Yeah, right around the time you start going 'Fuck me harder, Justin' in your head."

I could feel him laughing against my hair. "Oh, you know what's going on in my head?"

I pressed closer, and answered him right in his ear. "Yeah. I do." I felt him shift into me, and his breathing change just a little. "Come on upstairs."

**Brian's POV**

Justin tugged me up the stairs, and I let him pull my clothes off and crawl all over my back. I buried my face in my arms, listening to him laughing and breathing against my ear.

He was kissing my shoulders and back, and I thought about how things used to be, before Justin came home. If we were at the house together, he was visiting, and if we were getting into bed, it was to fuck. And if we were sleeping, it was because we’d fucked ourselves into a state of exhaustion and were lying there, the sheets and pillows on the floor, our bodies stuck together with sweat and spit and come.

Even after he came back, for a long time it was pretty much the same. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, and he’d be on his stomach lying between my legs, my cock getting hard in his mouth. Or I’d open my eyes and see him lying there, sleeping, his skin flushed and his lips parted. He’d look so fucking soft and warm and so fucking young, so much like that boy I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off all those years ago, that I’d be rolling him over and burying my cock in his ass as soon as he was awake enough to spread his legs.

"Come back." He was whispering, and I looked at him over my shoulder just as his wet finger worked its way into my ass. He started stroking me in a way that made me feel cold and hot at the same time, and I stopped remembering, or thinking about anything at all.

He was stretching my asshole wide around the head of his cock, pressing into me without pausing, but incredibly slowly, making me ache and want, not sure which one hurt more. I heard myself groaning against my arm, and pushed back, trying to make him hurry, go deeper, get me somewhere past just wanting it.

He let me rock back onto his cock, let me tug his thigh with my right hand, pulling him deeper. But when he started to thrust into me, I couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t keep trying to draw him in. I could just kneel under him, waiting for each thrust to go that little bit further into my ass, until he finally had me full, stretched, aching and not empty, not wanting. Until that electric burn started to build, inside my ass and in my balls, spreading out in little eddies of feeling down my thighs, making my stomach muscles shudder.

I gripped his thigh again, and felt his forehead pressing on my back, his hands digging into my hips. He was coming, and so was I, the heat melting out of me and into me at the same time. I fell down, hard, on the bed, Justin's breath rough against my ear.

We lay there for a little while, his fingers laced with mine, his heart pounding against my back. At some point I felt his dick slip out of my ass, and his kiss brush across the side of my face, but I didn't really wake up.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on my side, the duvet pulled up to my waist. Justin wasn't there. I looked at the clock, and it was almost midnight. I pulled on my sweatpants and went downstairs to Justin's studio, but he wasn't there.

He was in the media room, watching some corny Christmas movie, holding a bowl that I assumed used to be full of popcorn and now contained nothing but burned, partially popped kernels and a crust of salt and butter.

I stood looking down at him. "Hey."

He smiled at me, and looked back at the TV. "Hey." But he moved the pillow that was next to him, and after a second, I sat down.

I frowned. "You ate all the popcorn."

He glanced at me. "I practically had to blow you in the supermarket bathroom to even get you to allow me to bring it into the house."

I nudged his foot. "Make another bowl. It's Christmas Eve. In fact, I think it might even be Christmas."

He laughed. "At the next commercial."

I sat there not really watching for a while, my head tipped back on the sofa cushions. I felt him nuzzling into my neck. "Do you want popcorn or to make out during this commercial?"

I smiled against his mouth. "Popcorn."

He laughed, and heaved himself up off the sofa. I lay down in the warm spot where he'd been sitting, and fell back to sleep.

I woke up with my head in his lap. He was eating my popcorn and watching what looked like a completely different movie. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and took the bowl away from him.

"Did you bring beer?"

He took another handful of popcorn and gestured with his chin towards two beer bottles on the coffee table. I took the one nearest me, and washed the taste of butter and salt out of my mouth.

The next morning we slept late. The phone didn't ring, there were no disasters at Babylon, Kinnetik didn't burn down in the night, and presumably Gus' PlayStation worked perfectly.

Either that or Justin had turned all the phones off. I decided not to check.

We got to Debbie's at 2, and walked down the path with Jennifer, who'd also just arrived.

"Merry Christmas, darling." She kissed Justin on the cheek. "And you too, Brian."

I dutifully let her give me a WASP-ish kiss, nothing like Debbie's lipstick-smeared smacks. Justin had his arm around her as we walked past the dancing leather elves and animated nativity scene to the house.

A wall of noise hit us when we opened the door: scratchy holiday songs, laughter, Gus shrieking. Emmett swooped down on Justin and dragged him away before he'd even gotten out of his jacket, and Jennifer followed the general sound of laughter into the kitchen.

Debbie smacked me once with her hand and then with her lips, and left me to scrub the lipstick off by myself. I didn't see Carl anywhere, and raised an eyebrow at Lindsay, who was leaning against the sink with JR in her arms. Melanie must have taken Gus outside to play; Debbie and Carl had put up a new swing set when she became a grandmother.

I stepped away from the kitchen, and Lindsay followed me over. "You timed your arrival better than we did. We got here just as Carl went storming out."

I glanced at Debbie, who seemed like her usual loud, happy self. "Did he buy her power tools instead of lingerie?" I suppressed a shudder at the thought of Debbie's taste in lingerie.

Lindsay shook her head. "It's this wedding thing."

I noticed that someone, presumably Emmett, had set up a bar near the stairway, and I steered Lindsay in that direction and got myself a drink. "Weddings do seem to bring the drama. Which is why I avoid them at all costs."

She laughed. "You're so full of shit, Brian."

I lifted my glass to her. "It's the holiday season. It just fills me with…"

"Shit?" She was giving me the kind of look I preferred she reserve for her children.

"A warm feeling of minding my own business."

She changed the subject but didn't take the hint. "Justin told me the other night that his father wants his sister to go to St. James. I can't believe any father could be that… cold."

I shrugged. "He tried to kill me. He had Justin arrested for standing in front of his store. Turning his daughter against his son to get back at his wife actually strikes me as a step up for him."

"Has Justin talked to his sister about this?"

I looked at her for a minute. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Brian.”

I frowned. “His sister is apparently understudying Claire for cunt sister of the year.”

Lindsay shook her head, shifting JR to her other shoulder. “She’s just at the age when girls want to please their fathers, Brian.”

I snorted. “And what age are they when they get over that?”

She smacked me on the arm with her one free hand. "Shut up. She'll figure out what kind of father Craig is some day, and hopefully she and Justin can work things out then."

I snorted. "Well, Gus and JR are living proof that fathers are highly, highly over-valued in our society."

Lindsay smiled at me in that annoyingly maternal way. "I don't know. I think you and Michael make a pretty good case for fatherhood."

Jennifer had managed to escape the gravitational pull of the kitchen, and walked up to where we were standing. "What's going on with Debbie and Carl? I asked where he was and she almost bit my head off, then threw her arms around me and apologized."

Debbie in hysterics on Christmas Day. I wondered if I could get a pre-emptive case of food poisoning and leave. Instead, I refilled my drink, and gestured the two women over to the sofa, where Michael and Ben were talking with Blake and Ted. I had no idea where Emmett had dragged Justin off to, but I assumed they were having a meeting of the Debbie Novotny Home for Displaced Fags Society, to try and fix whatever was going on with her and Carl.

I kissed Michael on the mouth and sat next to him.

He tried to smile, but it was strained. "Merry Christmas."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." I sipped my drink. "So, what did Santa bring you?"

Michael started rattling off the details of Christmas morning at the Novotny-Bruckners, and when he took a breath, Ben smiled at me. "How about you, Brian? Was Santa good to you, too?"

I looked at him. "Do Buddhists believe in Santa Claus?"

"Absolutely." He had that look like he was almost-but-not-quite laughing at me. It reminded me suddenly of Vic, watching Michael and me when he would visit while we were in high school.

Ted laughed. "I think the best thing Santa managed – with a little help from me, let me add – was that neither fire nor flood nor act of a malevolent deity struck the club or Kinnetik, and Brian actually got a day off."

I frowned at him. "Thanks for jinxing it, Theodore."

He opened his mouth to respond when there was a loud slam of the oven door from the kitchen.

Michael's eyes flicked over in that direction, and he sighed. "My mother is not happy today."

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought Christmas was the highlight of her year, except for Pride."

"It usually is, but she's not speaking to me or Carl because of the wedding thing."

I saw that Justin and Emmett had emerged from their strategy session and were talking to her by the kitchen sink, but judging from the loud noise and the thin line her lips were making, it wasn't going too well. "Mikey, Debbie doesn't know the meaning of 'not speaking.' Debbie can't shut up."

Ben frowned. "I thought so, too, but remember what happened with Vic. She's really angry right now."

Melanie came in from outside and headed for the bar, and then joined us in the living room. "Hunter's supposedly watching Gus. I think he's having the childhood he never had."

Ben smiled. "That's wonderful. Having a brother and sister is good for him."

Lindsay kept her voice low. "What exactly happened with Carl?"

Michael shook his head. "I didn't really hear. She just blew up at him and told him to get out, and he went slamming out the door just when you got here."

Melanie snorted. "Happy Holidays."

"Don't think I don't know what you're all saying over there." It was Debbie's voice, cutting through the whispers. I raised an eyebrow at Justin, who was behind her, but he just shook his head slightly.

Emmett had a hand on Deb's shoulder. "Debbie, now calm down…."

"I don't need to _calm down_. You all need to leave me the fuck alone." She was glaring at him.

I got up and walked over to where Justin was leaning against the refrigerator. "Well, this is much more entertaining than last year's match between you and Lindsay. Debbie vs. everyone else. I'm betting on Deb." I didn't even try to lower my voice.

"You _should_ bet on Deb," she snapped at me. "You all should."

I shrugged. "I thought you were supposed to lose your hearing when you got old."

She planted herself in front of me, glaring. "Don't pretend you aren't part of this, Mr. Brian 'Let him make an honest woman of you, Deb' Kinney, ranting against marriage every fucking day of your life for years, and then walking around Pittsburgh with a wedding ring on like no one's supposed to notice."

Justin made a strangled sound that I was fairly sure was a choked-back laugh, but I was afraid to look at him while she was standing there jabbing me with her finger. Fortunately the front door opened before she actually did any damage.

Unfortunately, it was Carl. I heard Michael mutter "Shit" at the exact moment Melanie said "Fuck," and I wondered if that sweet little JR was going to grow up to be as big a potty mouth as her parents. I certainly hoped so.

But however angry Carl had been when he left, he wasn't angry now. He ignored everyone in the room and walked right up to Debbie, who, somewhat to my surprise, let him lead her over to the table. She sat down, not making eye contact with him or anyone else. We all stood there, waiting.

"Debbie, sweetheart," he started. She just stared down at their hands and didn't say a word. "Honey, I know your beliefs mean a lot to you. They mean a lot to me, too. I love you for them."

She glanced at him, then looked away. "Until they get in the way of what you think I should do."

He shook his head. "It's not that. It's just that it scares the hell out of me to think of being gone, and you needing help, and it's something I could have done for you if we'd just gotten married."

"Don't you think every single person in this room feels that way about the person they love?" She sounded angry. "But they don't have that choice. So I won't have it, either."

Justin was still standing next to me, and I looked at him. He was chewing on his lower lip. I decided enough was enough. I had plans for that lip. "You know, if Debbie really feels this strongly about this…"

Carl's apparent calm didn't last, or at least, didn't extend to me. "That's easy for you to say, Brian. You're rich. You don't have to worry about Justin not being taken care of if something happens to you."

Justin didn't like that. "I don't need Brian to take care of me."

Carl just blazed back. "You say that because you're young. You think nothing can ever happen to you."

I felt a weird stillness fall over everyone in the room, but it was only Debbie who said anything. "I think Justin of everyone here knows perfectly well that things can happen to you."

Carl's face turned red. "I'm sorry, Justin…"

Justin shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

Michael went and knelt down next to Deb. "Ma… "

She didn't look at him, and he put his hand over hers. "Ma, look at me."

"I'm lookin'." She was actually glaring, but I kept my mouth shut.

Michael covered both her hands with his. "Do you think Ben and I are really married?"

Her face softened. "Of course I do, baby. You know that."

"And Melanie and Lindsay, are they really married?"

Her eyes moved past Justin and me to where Mel and Lindsay stood. "Of course they are."

Melanie walked up behind Debbie and put her hand on her shoulder. "Debbie, don't you see, that's all that matters? That we're married in the eyes of our family and our friends? Who cares what the judges and politicians think or say?"

"You weren't so happy with the judges and politicians when they were trying to pass Prop 14." Debbie's mouth was tight again, but she sounded just a little bit uncertain.

"No, we weren't, Deb, but this isn't about that." It was Ben, his voice absolutely firm and calm. "This is about Carl and you, just like our marriage is about Michael and me."

Michael turned her face to look at his. "Marry him, Ma. He loves you. And we want you to marry him, if that's what you want."

"You should do what you want to do, Deb." It was Justin. "Don't let those assholes in the White House stop you. I wouldn't let them stop me from doing anything I wanted to do." He glanced at me. "And neither would Brian."

I cleared my throat, and Debbie looked at me. "Do you want to marry Carl, Debbie?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Then do it." I pushed away from the refrigerator. "Do it. Anything else is bullshit."

"It's bullshit." It was Gus, his voice crystal clear in the silence.

Lindsay put her hand over her eyes for just a second. I smiled.

Everyone laughed, and then Debbie was kissing Carl and Michael was hugging them both and then kissing Ben. I shook my head and went back into the living room.

Lindsay and Justin followed me in, and sat down on either side of me. Emmett was right behind them. "I've been trying to figure out what to say to her for weeks now. How did Michael come up with that?"

I shrugged. "Don’t look at me. That was all him."

Justin poked me in the side. "I guess all those years of hanging out with the master finally rubbed off on him."

I snorted. "Marriage pitches aren't my specialty."

Lindsay laughed, and Justin just smiled. I cut off the entire dangerous line of thought. "Hey, Deb, are we ever going to get anything to eat around here?"

"Fuck, the sweet potatoes!" She jumped up, and so did Emmett, and there was a lot of banging of doors and slamming of pans while we all found a place to sit. Gus looked at me from the far side of the table, and I grinned proudly at him. Only six years old, and already calling bullshit on the world.

**Justin's POV**

I sat back at the table, and let a tiny little burp escape.

Brian snorted. "That's an hour on the treadmill for you tomorrow."

I shook my head. "I have a completely different cardiovascular workout in mind."

He leaned over and brushed his mouth against mine, then pushed his chair back. I assumed he was going to the bathroom, and took my coffee and pie into the living room.

My mom smiled at me as I sat down. "I'm glad I could make it this year, sweetheart. It was a lovely dinner."

"After the drama."

"At least the drama had a happy ending." It was Ted, perching himself on the arm of the sofa.

Blake sat in the armchair next to Jennifer. "I guess that means we'll all be going to their wedding."

Ted snorted. "Let's hope she lets Emmett plan it for her. And pick out her dress."

I laughed. "The two of them are already drawing up the plans in the pantry. Trust me."

Ted glanced down at me. "Well, if he was good enough for the Kinney-Taylor nuptials, I'm sure he can handle the Novotny-Horvath wedding."

I made a face. "Can you imagine finally getting rid of 'Novotny' just to become a Horvath?"

I'd finished my pie and coffee, and Brian still hadn't come back, so I went looking for him. I checked the front porch first, then walked around the house to the back. He was standing under the tree, looking at the abandoned swing set.

I walked up, and pulled open his coat, wrapping it around us both. "Hey."

He didn't say anything, just nuzzled my hair.

"It's kind of cold out here for this."

He just wrapped me tighter inside his coat, and still didn't answer me. I stood there, feeling peaceful.

After a long time, he took in a deep breath, and let it out. "Families. They're exhausting."

I glanced up at his face. His eyes looked tired, but he seemed relaxed. "I'm glad Debbie and Carl are going to get married."

He laughed a little. "That's going to be exhausting, too."

I agreed, and just stood there inside his coat a little longer. "Brian?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you ever sorry we cancelled our wedding?"

He looked at me for a minute. "Would it have made any difference in how things turned out?"

I smiled. "Well, we'd have gotten presents."

He laughed. "What do you want that you don't have?"

"Not one thing." I didn't mean to make it sound serious and solemn, but it did.

He brushed his lips over my hair, and held me a little tighter. "Me, neither."

I heard the front door open from the other side of the house, and voices calling goodnight from the path. But I just stood in the backyard with Brian under the leafless tree, listening to his heart beating against my ear.


End file.
